Married Life
by kalyn19
Summary: A collection of anecdotes from Freddie Benson and Sam Puckett-Benson's everyday life as a married couple.
1. Chapter 1

Hello guys! I know I should be updating iSwitch Moms right now, but I'm in a little writer's block... And to cure that I figured I'd write little drabbles! Weird, huh? Anyway, hope you enjoy!

**EDIT: I changed the rating from M to T seeing as though I have no intention of writing a full-out lemon scene so... yeah! Thanks to the reviewers who helped me sort it out!**

This is rated T because of a little lime. They are, after all, married in this fic. So readers, be responsible! ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or the characters in this story. They were created by Dan Schneider, who is an awesome dude.

* * *

**Married Life**

Anectode # 1

They were on the couch, watching a horror film on television. Sam was in front, her left hand tucked under her cheek and her right arm on top of Freddie's. Freddie was behind her, his left arm supporting his face because it was above Sam's, his right arm wrapped around his wife's waist. Their legs were entwined to prevent Sam from falling.

"Sam," Freddie whispered in her ear. His lips brushed her neck ever so slightly, as if to rouse a reaction.

The blond responded by shushing him. The movie was getting to the best part. And by Sam's standards, that included someone getting hurt... or worse.

Freddie wasn't surprised by her reaction. She was Sam, after all. He chuckled to himself. Burying his face in her wild blond curls, he whispered her name again.

"Quit it, Fredturd!" she hissed. "I'm watching!" She swatted his face away with her left hand.

Freddie scrunched his face up, trying to get rid of Sam's hand on it. "Pfft, Sam!" he whined exasperatedly after failing.

"Shhh! Here's the best part!" she squealed in anticipation.

Freddie rolled his eyes, her hand now covering the lower part of his face.

Just when the killer raised his machete to beat down on the poor victims, the television screen went black.

Sam sat up in surprise. "What the-" She turned to glare at her husband, who was nonchalantly holding the remote with his left hand, his finger still on the power button.

"What the chiz did you just do?"

"I turned off the television."

"Why? You got a death wish or something?"

"No, I wanted my wife's attention."

Sam was silent for a moment, her face blank. Freddie sat up, too, leveling his gaze. He had a raised eyebrow and the makings of a smirk on his lips.

Suddenly, his wife leaned in to him, her finger hooking onto the collar of his loose bedtime shirt. Her eyes were half-lidded, and Freddie found his lids grow heavy as well.

"You want Mama's attention that bad?" Her voice was a husky whisper. Sam's face was inches from his, her lips almost grazing the sides of his mouth.

Freddie's mouth opened a tiny bit in anticipation. "Uh huh." He started to close his eyes as he leaned, but just when their lips were a half inch apart, Sam pulled away.

"Well, too bad!" she said mockingly, cocking her head to the side. She stood up pointedly, turned, and headed for their bedroom, leaving a puckered-lip, closed-eyed Freddie sitting on the couch.

He blinked a few times for her message to sink in. He heard the door of their room click shut.

He groaned in frustration. "Sam!" he yelled.

The door clicked open and he turned, only for his face to collide with an airborne pillow.

"You're sleeping on the couch until you get that movie on DVD!" she shouted, then shut the door loudly.

Freddie clutched the pillow on his face, mumbling under his breath. He threw it on the couch, then unceremoniously dumped his body on it.

Note to self: Cutting Sam's movie off gets you nothing but a night alone on the couch.

* * *

Well, there you have it, the first anecdote.

Tell me, do you want the anecdotes to appear one by one or do you want me to collect them in one chapter? I'll group them according to theme.

Although that will take longer to upload, you'll have more to read!

Please tell me your thoughts by reviewing!

Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it!

~kalyn19


	2. Chapter 2

**EDIT: Sorry guys, I deleted this chapter earlier. I thought I would want to rewrite this, change the ending and such, because I wanted the story to go a different direction. But then I realized I posted it already and you guys thought it was okay, so no use, right? I'll just use that ending for a different anecdote.**

Hello guys! Wow! I did not expect that much reviews! You guys rock! Thank you so much!

Anyway, I guess some of you are uncomfortable with the rating. So, in your next review, please tell me whether I should keep it an M fic or tone it down a bit to a T fic. Don't worry, I won't post a full out make-out scene or anything worse than that. The rating was just for formality purposes. :) I just needed to prepare you guys in case... you know!

Okay, I bored you long enough! On to the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or the characters in this story. They were created by Dan Schneider, who is an awesome dude.

* * *

**Married Life**

Anecdote # 2

It was Sam's turn to cook dinner that night. Most of the time, the dinner composed of take-out. Whether it was because Sam was busy or she was just plain lazy, Freddie would never get. And frankly, he didn't care otherwise: Sam was Sam, the woman he loves.

No wonder it came as a surprise to him that one night, Sam did decide to cook. Really cook. Not just buy a couple of frozen dinners and nuke them in the microwave. Nor was it just the simple cut and fry kind of cooking. It was the 'stuff the chicken, stir the sauce' kind of cooking.

"Wow Sam!" Freddie said as he dabbed his chin with the tabe napkin. "I gotta say, I'm kind of impressed."

Sam looked up at him from her plate. She had sauce all over her lips. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it, nub."

Freddie smirked. Sam never stopped amazing him. It was one of the many things he loves about her. "Whatever you say, Sam," he said, but Sam didn't seem to hear. She was too preoccupied eating a quarter of a chicken on her plate.

Sam caught him looking at her. She felt a bit self-conscious, but it went away when she saw her husband's smirk. "What are you looking at, Fredweird?" she asked, her mouth still full of chicken meat.

"Nothing," he shrugged, that smirk still on his lips. "You just look stunning, even with that sauce smothered all over your face."

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks, so she glared at him. "Don't get all cheezy on me, you dork!"

Freddie chuckled heartily as he pushed his chair back to stand up. He walked towards Sam then gave her a kiss on the forehead, which was curiously also covered in sauce. "As you wish, Princess Puckett. I'll leave you to finish your meat,"

As he was walking away, she called out. "Wait! Where do you think you're going?"

He turned back to see her licking the sauce off of her lips. "To the study. I gotta finish some stuff for work,"

Sam looked bewildered. "Aren't you gonna help me clean all this up?"

Freddie looked around. Dirty pots and pans were still on the kitchen range, the lids on the side, dripping. The utensils and such were strewn on the countertop, unwashed and abandoned. "Uhm, no."

"What?" Sam snapped, rising from her seat. "But I cooked!"

"Oh no, Sam! That won't work!" Freddie said in a patronizing tone. "Remember our deal! I did the dishes last week, now it's your turn!"

Sam looked confused, but angry. "But Freddie, I cooked!"

Freddie rolled his eyes. "I know, and it was delicious! But that doesn't save you from doing the dishes." And with that, he left the dining room.

He walked towards his study, waiting for Sam to shout at him or something. Surprisingly, she didn't. He just shrugged, thinking Sam must have thought it over. He turned the lights on in his study, then went for his chair. He opened his laptop and waited for it to boot, tapping his fingers on his lap.

Just then, Sam came to the door, leaning into the frame. "Freddie, come help me clean up the kitchen," she said in a pleading tone.

He shook his head. He was all too familiar with Sam's crazy schemes to make him do all the work. "No can do, Sam."

Sam narrowed her eyes at him. "Help me clean up or I'll dunk your laptop in the toilet!"

Her husband rolled his eyes. "You woudn't do that,"

Sam raised her eyebrow at him with a look that said 'Wanna bet?', but her expression changed in a second. She figured she needed to approach this differently.

She walked over to him slowly. Her blue eyes were half-lidded, and her lips were a dangerous yet playful smirk.

Freddie swallowed. That look on Sam's face only meant two things: either he was getting his butt kicked or they were taking it to the bedroom. With a full stomach, he really hoped it was the second one.

"Freddie," she said in a low whisper, her voice a melodic tone.

Freddie had to blink a few times to get his thoughts straight. "Uh, yeah, Sam?"

She was now a few feet from him. He noticed that her face was clean, but her shirt was stained with sauce. He guessed she used the shirt to wipe her face. Her hips were swayed to the side just a tiny bit, one arm perfectly poised on it. Her other arm was reaching up to touch his face as she leaned down. "Help me clean the kitchen,"

A bit distracted by her close proximity, Freddie had to clear his throat. "Not gonna happen, Sam." He wanted to sound stern, but he knew that squeak in his voice gave him away.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, her face now just a few inches from his face.

Freddie wanted to nod, but instead he felt himself lean forward to catch her lips. They kissed, and Sam moved closer just as Freddie pulled her in. She sat on his lap, looping her arms around his neck as he put his hand on hers. She threaded her fingers in his rich brown hair, turning it into a full blown make out session.

Just when things were really heating up, Sam pulled away. She took her hands off of him and stood up from his lap. Abruptly, she turned and walked towards the door.

Freddie was a little slow to react, his mind still a bit disoriented. "Wha-"

Sam grinned at him evilly from the doorframe.

Finally, Freddie shook his head. "Sam!" he yelled.

She blinked innocently. "Yes, Fredlump?"

He gave his wife a look that said 'Come back here and finish what you started'.

Sam just shook her head, that smile still on her lips. "No can do, Fredwart. I got a kitchen to clean, remember?"

Her husband looked bewildered, as if he can't believe Sam used that against him.

She tapped her finger on her chin coyly. "Speaking of which, I gotta get going! See ya, Fredalupe!" And with that, she walked off.

Freddie stared at the spot she was in long after she had walked away. He sighed, more frustrated than confused. He wondered who he really ended up punishing.

Maybe helping Sam out in the kitchen wasn't such a bad idea.

* * *

Well there you go guys! And no, I have no idea why I always keep Freddie hanging at the end! I just see it as Sam's new way of torturing him. :D

Anyway, thank you for reading! Please review! And remember to put your preferred rating for this story! Your opinion counts!

Thank you guys! Enjoy your day!

~kalyn19


	3. Chapter 3

Hello guys! Here is another installment of 'Married Life'. I'm sorry if it took so long. School is starting so... yeah. Bummer, right? ;;) Anyway, I'll try to update as often as I can!

Thank you guys so much for the reviews! Seddie love to you all!

And I'm sorry to keep you hanging on my other story, 'iSwitch Moms'. I have the idea, i just don't have the time or energy to type it down. I wish I could just send you telepathic chapters. Wouldn't that be awesome?

**EDIT: Sorry I wasn't able to proofread it before I updated. I fixed the typos already. :) And sorry if it was fluffy. It's our (me and my boyfriend) 14th monthsary.**

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or the characters in this story. They belong to Dan Schneider, who is an awesome dude.

* * *

**Married Life**

Anecdote # 3

Freddie just got home from work, 3 hours later than he was supposed to. He knew he was a dead man; Sam was never the jealous or insecure type, she just didn't want Freddie to overwork himself. And even though she never says that out loud, Freddie can tell. It was one of those things he gets about her.

He closed the door quietly, assuming Sam was asleep. It was, after all, midnight.

"Yo, Fredbag!" came a shout from the stairway. Freddie nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Jesus, Sam!" he breathed. "You scared me half to death!"

From the darkness, he could see his wife smirk. "Kind of the point, dork!"

He glared at her. "Not funny, Puckett!"

Sam went down the stairs, and Freddie caught her snickering. "Yeah, it was."

Freddie continued to glare at her as she approached him, even when she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"So, what took you so long, Benson?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow.

Freddie's eyes widened a little bit. _Here we go_. "I needed to stay at work a little longer," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her waist. He knew she liked that, even though the first time he tried it years ago he got a punch in the gut. A smirk formed on his lips as he thought of something to say. "Why? You miss me, Puckett?"

She looked up at him with a blushing yet disgusted face. "Ew, gross. Don't make me puke, Freddifer!"

He nearly rolled his eyes, but for some reason, he didn't. He heard something odd in Sam's voice. _Did I... strike a nerve?_ He decided to change the subject. "So, why are you still up?"

She shrugged, her arms still around his neck. "Couldn't sleep."

"Why? You hungry?"

Sam grinned, "Mama's always hungry,"

Freddie chuckled and tried to make a move for the kitchen, but Sam wouldn't budge. He looked at her to see her eyes were downcast. "Are you okay?"

Her head snapped up. "Huh? Oh, yeah, 'course I am, Freddork!" She unwrapped her arms from his neck and tried to turn, but his hold on her waist didn't let her.

"Dude-"

"Tell me what's wrong first," he said, squeezing her as he raised his eyebrow.

Sam looked at him, "What, aside from your face?"

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, aside from my face, which, curiously, you couldn't stop kissing."

"Shut it, Fredturd!" she sneered, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Not unless you tell me what's wrong. And no witty retorts this time."

Sam glared at him. She didn't speak.

Freddie could see where this was going. "Okay, just one. But you have to tell me what's wrong, okay?"

She could take that. "Fine. Nothing is wrong with me, you over-reactive dipthong."

"Yeah, nothing's wrong with you," he scoffed. "It's like saying there's nothing wrong with Gibby."

"Are you calling me a shirtless potato?"

He pretended to consider it for a second. "Maybe," he allowed, a small smirk on his lips. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Sam slapped him playfully. And since it's Sam, playful was painful.

He turned back to her with a bewildered expression. "Dude!"

"You were asking for it,"

"How did I-"

"You tried to get me in bed by referring to Gibby."

"Ew. Good point."

He got slapped again. "Ow! Damnit, Sam!"

"What? You said so yourself!" she answered innocently.

Freddie glared at his wife. "Okay, First off, I do not need to refer to anybody to get you into bed. Second, you still didn't tell me what was wrong with you!"

"I did tell you!"

"No, you didn't!"

"Yes I did!"

Freddie's voice carried a frustrated tone. "Oh really, now?"

"I told you I couldn't sleep!" she fired back.

"Well why can't you?"

"Because we have a big bed!"

"I thought you wanted a big bed!"

"Yeah, I do!"

"Well what's wrong with the bed we have?"

"You weren't in it!" she shouted before she could stop herself. As soon as the words left her mouth she shut it tight.

Freddie was stunned. He never expected that.

Sam took it as an opportunity to wiggle out of his grasp. She succesfully did so and strode to the couch. She sat on it, took the remote and turned the television on.

Her husband walked over to her and flopped down on the couch next to her. He had a smug look on his face and he just stared at her, daring her to cast him a glance.

"Go away, Frednub."

"You missed me," he stated happily.

"I'm sure I wouldn't the next time I want to punch you in the gut,"

Freddie just smiled wider. "You couldn't sleep without me next to you,"

Sam tried really hard to focus on the television. "I can too! Mama can sleep anywhere, anytime she wants."

"Are you saying you _want_ me to be next to you when you sleep?" he inquired smugly, a full grin on his face.

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to bed!"

She shot up from the couch, and a millisecond later, so did Freddie. He scooped her up in to his arms, one arm hooked under her knees and the other supporting her back.

Sam wrapped her arms around his neck on reflex. She glared at him the second she got over the shock.

"What are you doing?"

"Carrying you to bed," he answered smugly, earning him a 'Thanks, Captain Obvious' glare. "Why? You wanna go down?"

Sam considered it for a moment. _Hmm, no walking._ "Nah, I'm good." She rested her head on his shoulder and let him carry her upstairs.

Freddie had a grin on his face the whole way.

* * *

Well, there you have it! (Do I say that at the end of every fic?) I hope it wasn't out of character or anything like that! But please tell me if it was. It's this thing called tough love which enables us to grow. :)

Thank you for reading! Please review!

Have a nice day!

~kalyn19


	4. Chapter 4

Hey there guys! Long time no update! (Hides from rotten cabbages and tomatoes) Anyway, I am so sorry for the lack of anecdotes these past weeks! I was writing already. Two ideas popped into my head, and I couldn't find a way to finish either. This was supposed to be anecdote number 5, but I'm still thinking about that. I was wondering if I should make it a one-shot or something. Anyway, I'm boring you! On to the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or the characters mentioned below. They are created by Dan Schneider, who is an awesome dude. I also do not own any other copyrighted titles. They belong to their respective brilliant-minded owners.

* * *

**Married Life**

Anecdote # 4

"Benson-"

"No,"

"Oh come on! It's just-"

"Leave me alone, Sam!"

"Fine! Sleep on the couch from now on so I won't bother you for the rest of your life!"

"Sam!"

It was way in to the night and the couple was in bed. Sam woke up from a rather weird dream and she tried to wake her husband up to tell him about it. Suffice to say it wasn't working.

"Why do you have to be such a nub?" she angrily hissed. Freddie never liked being woken up in the middle of the night, especially when it was after a long day at work.

Freddie didn't answer. He was not in the mood to have any conversation at this moment, even if it was with his wife. Sleep time was Freddie time.

Sam crossed her arms on her chest in a huff. She just had a very weird dream -even by her standards - and she couldn't wait to tell anybody about it. But if her husband doesn't want to hear about it...

An idea came to Sam's head. Carly!

Her best friend was in Paris for the month, finishing up on a current film shooting. Carly Shay, famous iCarly star, has become very successful actress, but that's not all she does. She also owns her own business, one which helps not only the environment but those who live in it, too.

Sam reached over Freddie - the telephone was on his side of the bed - to call Carly. Freddie groaned in his sleep, but otherwise kept quiet about the discomfort his wife was (un)intentionally causing.

"Move over, Fredbag!" she snapped when she couldn't get to the phone. "I want to call Carly!"

"Sam, it's in the middle of the night," he murmured, still not budging.

"She's in Paris! There's a 9 hour difference, dipwad!"

Freddie still didn't move over, and so she leaned over him, purposefully putting her weight on him, and tried to grab the wireless telephone. It hit him in the head hard and he grumbled incoherently.

"Quick, nub, what's the number to Carly's hotel room?"

"How should I know?" he hissed.

Good point, Sam thought, but she would never say it out loud.

He couldn't stop himself from asking. "Why do you want to call her anyway?"

"Because my dork of a husband won't hear me out," she spat, glaring at his slumped back.

Freddie sighed in frustration and turned over to her, a glare fixed on his face. He won't get any peace and quiet if Sam doesn't stop bugging him. And the only way that would happen is if he gave her what she wanted.

"Fine. You have 5 minutes," he grumbled, his eyelids drooping.

Sam seemed to beam at him, whether from triumph or happiness he would never know. His vision was still blurry as he hoisted himself up to sit.

His wife launched on to the story of her dream. She went on and on about a plate of chicken wings floating right in front of her face and how it was always just out of reach. She sounded so convincing about chicken wings hating her, and she was going all out on her explanation when finally, she looked at Freddie.

He was slumped down, his head bowed. Even though his hair fell down half his face, she could see that his eyes were closed.

Sam didn't know whether to be more dissapointed or annoyed. Freddie fell asleep when she was talking. She looked at him with an unreadable expression.

She wanted to get mad at Freddie. She really tried to be. But looking at his tired (yet handsome) face, she couldn't find the strength. So she just sighed and slumped her shoulders.

"Freddie?" she said as softly as she could. When that didn't work she shouted his name. He jumped and stared at her with bloodshot eyes.

"What?" he snapped, then he saw her expression. He remembered. "Oh, I'm sorry Sam, I just-"

"Go to sleep, nub," was all she said. She turned around and shut the bedside table lamp. Soon their room was pitch black.

She lay down on her side, away from him. She just closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come over her.

"Sam?" he called, touching her bare shoulder.

"I said go to sleep, Fredbag," she sighed. She sounded hurt. Being Sam, that meant she sounded snappish and uninviting.

His hand moved down her arm and snaked its way around her waist. She felt his warm body behind her as he pulled her close.

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly in her ear. She couldn't help the tingling in her tummy. _It's just because his breath tickled my ear_, she told herself.

"I'm sorry you didn't brush your teeth before you went to bed," she deadpanned. However, she made no move to get away from him.

He chuckled that low, boyish Freddie chuckle, and she found her neck heating up. "I thought you wanted to sleep, nub," she tried again, real irritation in her voice.

Freddie hummed, probably in thought. "Yeah, I did," he admitted. Sam made the same look she did when she got Freddie to admit he was just helping her to get Carly all those years ago. But then, out of nowhere, he kissed her neck ever so gently.

"What are you doing?" she snapped as her eyes flew open. She tried to turn her head, but Freddie's was in the way. He was kissing her neck. Suffice to say she couldn't stay annoyed any longer.

Her husband shushed her and he flipped her over, so now he was on top of her. He saw Sam glaring at him, but a smirk formed on his lips when he noticed that tint of red on her cheeks.

"You're so dead, Benson," she spat. Distracting her so she won't get mad at him anymore? That was low, even for him.

Freddie just raised both his eyebrows in a smug look. "Yeah, but I figure I can have my death wish now," And then he lowered himself on top of his wife. He resumed kissing his way down her neck.

Sam bit back a moan. Maybe she could let this one slide.

_Yeah right. I'll give him hell tomorrow._

* * *

Well, there you have it guys! I hope this will suffice for now! I'm back to my Archi-College-Student life, so no promises!

Thank you for reading! And I hope you review!

Happy Almost-Holidays everyone!

Seddie love to you all!

~kalyn19


	5. Chapter 5

Hey there guys! Here's another update for Married Life! Also, I edited the summary and the rating. Thank you all for giving me your thoughts on what the rating should be! And thanks also for the reviews and faves! That means so much!

My Creative Writing Class is great, by the way! I still didn't learn new techniques and such, but it's very interesting already!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this anecdote!

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or the characters in this story. They were created by Dan Schneider, who is an awesome dude.

* * *

**Married Life**

Anectode # 5

Freddie was disgruntled.

It was already 6 pm and he was still stuck at work, trying to fix the office server. He got it to work earlier this morning, but it crashed again around 4:30. He was headed for the door when his boss called him back.

_I hope Sam doesn't kill me_, he thought to himself as he grudgingly typed on his laptop. _I told her I was going to pick her up for a surprise. _Freddie was planning on taking his wife to dinner. He didn't have any reservations yet, but he figured he could bribe the maitre d' at the Cheesecake Warehouse later on with the money from his over time.

"Hey, Freddie!"

He looked up from his laptop. "Oh, hey, Gib!"

His high school friend grinned at him. They were co-workers, much to Freddie's surprise. He was sure Gibby would have taken a different job, seeing as though he needed to wear business attire. He was just too weird for that.

Now Gibby looked mature. He lost all his baby and child fat over the years, making him look buff. He was alot taller too, about the same height as Freddie. He still had the same face, though, and the same boyish grin.

"What are you still doing here?" Gibby asked as he sat down next to Freddie. "I thought you were headed out a couple of hours ago."

"I was," he grumbled as he looked back to his laptop. He noticed his friend already had his coat on and was all but ready to leave. _Lucky him._ "So, you taking Tasha out tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah," Gibby shrugged nonchalantly, but his eager smile gave him away. "But I hope she doesn't eat me alive tonight. She's been having these weird mood shifts lately and it kind of creeps me out."

"They're called mood _swings_, Gib. And they come naturally when a woman is pregnant."

Gibby looked at him weirdly. "How'd you know all that stuff?"

Freddie shrugged. "I read it online, I guess." He researched on all that stuff because he can't decide whether he was going to be thrilled or dead when they finally decide to have a child. Of course he'd be psyched, it was going to be their kid after all, but there were still other stuff to consider.

Gibby spoke up, "Man, can you imagine what Sam would be like when she gets mood swings?"

Freddie shuddered. That was exactly what he was thinking about. His wife was already rambunctious as it is. When her time of the month comes, all he wants to do is curl up under a rock and hide. He wouldn't dare imagine what she would be like when her hormones go haywire.

"Dude?" Gibby called, waving his hand in front of his friend's face.

Freddie snapped out of his disturbing thoughts and looked at him. "Uh, yeah?"

"I think Wendy's looking for you,"

"Wha-?"

Wendy was also one of his co-workers. She was the secretary of Mr. Schneider, their boss.

"Fredward Benson!" came a shout from the door. "Your wife - your - Sam is-" She was panting, looking absolutely panicked. Her eyes were open wide and her hair was everywhere.

"Speaking of the devil," Gibby chuckled.

Freddie gulped. He wondered what horrible thing he must have done that ticked Sam off so much she couldn't wait until later to harass him. "I'm over here, Wendy!"

Wendy spotted him, a crazed look on her face. She sprinted towards him, not a smart thing to do in heels, and stumbled right before him. She grabbed his shoulder and shook him vigorously while she stuttered "Sam- I- She- And-"

"Calm down Wendy!" Freddie said, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her as well. Now he was panicked.

Gibby pushed a chair under her knees, making her sit. "Just take deep, calming breaths, Wendy,"

Wendy took the air in gulps. She put her hand on her chest to calm her racing heart.

"Now," Freddie said, leaning into his seat. He was curious and worried at the same time. _Did something happen to Sam?_ "I want you to tell me what's wrong."

He hoped to Gosh Sam wasn't arrested; she'd stopped doing that when they were old enough to actually get sent to prison.

Wendy took one last calming breath before speaking, "Sam's doctor just called, he says she's in the emergency delivery room! She's giving birth right this instant!"

Her panicked voice seemed to have made Freddie as panicked as she was. "_What_?" he asked, totally bewildered. "_Sam_ is _what_?"

"Giving birth!" she shouted as she sprung from her seat. She grabbed Freddie's coat and pushed it into his arms. "Go to your wife now!"

Freddie was confused. He was still reeling in from the shock. How could Sam be giving birth?

"Dude, you never told me your wife was pregnant!" Gibby exclaimed, giving his friend a shocked expression that was more hilarious because he's Gibby.

"She didn't tell me either!" Freddie shouted, disbelief and outrage in his voice turning it into a high pitched scream. He was trying to make some sense into all of it while Wendy and Gibby pushed him into the elevator.

He dashed out the elevator to get to his office. He was so panicked he couldn't think straight. All that was in his mind now was get to Sam. He reached his door and clumsily fumbled with the card key in his pocket. He shakily opened the door, got in, and slammed the door shut.

Before he could open the lights, a greeting reached his ear.

"Hey, Fredhead!" came a voice from the leather chair by his desk. Freddie's heart almost rocketed out of his chest.

He quickly opened the lights then turned around to find his wife beaming at him.

"Sam!" he yelled, a mixture of rage and relief in his voice, a combination possible almost only when he's dealing with her. "How the chiz did you get in here?"

"Picked the lock," she shrugged nonchalantly. Freddie looked like he didn't know what to say next. Yup, his wife's still got it.

He gathered his senses. "What was that about Wendy and you in the emergency delivery room?"

Again she didn't look fazed. "I wanted to get you out of work. You're taking Mama out to dinner," she said with a finality that even Freddie wouldn't question. He was stunned into silence.

Sam raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.

He still couldn't let it go. "Why did you have to say you were- you know! Geez, Sam you almost gave me a heart attack! And it didn't even make any sense!"

A hint of a mischevious smirk tugged at her lips. She kept silent. He knew she was biting back a grin.

"Sam!" he cried in desperation.

She rolled her eyes. She slumped her shoulders and stood up. "I figured I'd give you a warm up. You know, for when the real thing happens in a couple of months or so." She didn't stop for breath. "Now let's go! Mama's in the mood for some chicken!" She strode out of her husband's office, leaving him standing there like a statue with a shocked expression on his face.

Freddie was having trouble processing what his wife just said. Especially the first part.

"Benson!" Sam called from the open elevator. "You coming or what?"

He turned to her, determined to ease his confusion and building excitement. "What do you mean warm me up?"

Sam just rolled her eyes at him and pressed the close button on the elevator. Freddie's eyes widened as he saw the doors sliding to a close.

"Sam!" he called, grabbing his car keys and coat from the desk. He sprinted towards the elevator and reached it a millisecond too late.

He could hear his wife's mocking laughter through the thick elevator doors.

What in the world just happened? He wasn't sure, but if it is what he think it is, then he's in for the ride of his life.

* * *

Meh, I could have written a better, wittier ending. I'm sorry! .

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this one! I don't know when's the next time I can update so I'm sorry if I left you hanging!

Thanks for taking the time to read this! Hope you review!

Have a great day everyone!

~kalyn19


	6. Chapter 6

Hello guys! I am so sorry for the lack of updates! Things are pretty hectic here at college, so please bear with me! Anyway, since you're reading this, it means you clicked on the story. So, Yay! Thank you so much for your endless support!

Thanks also to all the kind and constructive words in the reviews! They mean the world to me!

Oh, and I'd like to remind everybody that this is a collection of anecdotes. It means that they are not necessarily in chronological order. I just type what my Genius tells me to, and you can bet Gibby's shirt it's almost always random.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this anecdote!

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or the characters in this story. They belong to Dan Schneider, who is an awesome dude.

* * *

**Married Life**

Anecdote # 6

The alarm was deafeningly irritating.

"Freddie," Sam grunted, still half asleep. She was shaking her husband's shoulder with her leg. "Turn the alarm off,"

He scooted away from her. "It's on your side of the bed!" he grumbled. He was on the brink of being awake, and he fought it like Spencer against a beavcoon. No way was he going to get up so early on a non-working holiday.

Sam mumbled something incoherently before sitting up. Her curly blond hair was a mess, but you could see that her squinted eyes were glaring daggers at Freddie. "Lazy nub," she spat as she threw her pillow at his head.

She took the alarm clock and dunked it in the glass of water that was also on the bed side table. "Good luck waking up at eight, Fredwart," she said as she hopped out of bed.

He chose to ignore her comment and get right back to sleep. His head was throbbing like mad.

Yesterday was the 15th anniversary of the airing of the first iCarly episode. Sure they're alot older than they were back then, but they were still kids at heart. They throw a sort of party on that night and invite all the old cast, crew and guest stars from the show. Having ended the show formally when they were 18, they hoped that this would keep their friends close through the years. A reunion of sorts.

Last night was one heck of a bash. Almost everybody came. Gibby, Tasha, Spencer, even Chuck the delivery guy! He now owns the restaurant he used to work for. And because of that, catering was sort of free... and not to mention delicious.

"I do love me my egg rolls," Sam had stated last night. She wolfed down the whole tray before her husband or Carly could stop her.

They weren't allowed to have alcohol, considering Tasha's 6 months along, only champagne. That of course didn't stop Sam from spiking the punch that T-Bo brought in.

The party went on until it was nearly dawn. Of course, everybody had work the day after that, so they had to cut it short sometime.

Freddie shot up in to a sitting position. Just how long had he been sleeping?

"Sam?" he called as he got out of bed. He padded barefoot out of their room in to the hallway.

He heard some noises and he guessed his wife was rummaging through the fridge.

"Hey," he called, leaning on the door frame. Sam jumped up. She swiftly closed the door of the fridge and closed her bathrobe tighter.

"I didn't do it!" she said hurriedly.

Freddie raised his eyebrow. "Do what?"

Sam blinked. Clearing her throat, she walked past him. "I'm gonna take a shower!"

He just nodded as his eyes followed her towards the bathroom. Chuckling to himself at his wife's odd behavior in the morning, he walked towards the fridge. He pulled it open and peered inside.

"Sam?" he called yet again. He swore they brought home a thick slice of cake from the party last night.

"I'm in the shower!" came his wife's reply.

Freddie straightened and looked at the bathroom door. "Oh yeah? How come there's no water?" _I think I know where it went._

She didn't reply for a long while. Then, the water started running. "There, you happy?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. In two quick strides he was just outside the bathroom. "Need any help in there?"

Normally, Sam would react in two ways. Either she'd shoot him down with a comment about his perversity or she'd let him in. It doesn't take a Nevel to guess which one Freddie preffered.

This time, she surprised him by saying, "No thanks, I'm good!" in a suspiciously muffled voice.

"You sure?" he pressed, leaning in to the door. "Sounds like you need a little help,"

"Jeez, Fredward. I'm a woman not a handicap!" she answered exasperatedly.

Oh Freddie knew just how handicapable his Samantha Puckett can be. "Oh, I just thought you wanted help finishing that three layer chocolate ice cream cake,"

The other end was silent. He guessed she's probably considering giving some of it to him.

Of course, considering is not the same as _actually_ doing it.

"I said I'm good, Fredwierdo!"

"Aha! So you _are_ eating the three layer chocolate ice cream cake!" he yelled in an accusing tone.

"I gave no such information!" she shouted in defense.

He shook the doorknob, fully knowing it's locked. "Open the door, Sam!"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"I'm in the bathroom!"

"So? It's not like I'd see anything I haven't seen before!"

"Well, you never know!"

Freddie was taken aback for a second. What was she implying? "Okay, that was disturbing!"

"Your face is disturbing!" she spat back.

"Sam!" he yelled, frustrated. He knew that when Sam brought out the "Your face" card it's time to stop bickering while you still have shreds of your dignity. "Give me some of that cake!"

She pretended to be thinking it over. "Why should I?"

"Because it's the cake from the iCarly party last night and we are both of equal right to that cake!"

He should have known she wouldn't respond to rationalization. "Yeah, yeah. Try again, Dorkzilla!"

"Because I'll throw away all your fat cakes if you don't!"

"Too late. They're just empty wrappers now," a pause, and then, "Yeah go ahead and throw them!"

He was really starting to get irritated. And what's worse is that he could almost see Sam's evil smirk through the wooden door.

"Because I won't buy you any more bacon if you don't?"

"If you do that, you're dead, Benson." Nothing gets in the way of Momma and her meat.

"Because you're pretty?"

"Who do you think I am? Melanie?"

"Because you're awesome?"

"What is it with you and your references to Gibby?"

"Because I'll kill myself if you don't?"

"A pocket full of insurance money and a fat slice of cake. Life is good!"

His patience was growing thin now. Finally he thought of something that could maybe get her to come out.

"Because I'm your husband and you love me?"

Silence.

He anxiously waited for her reply. Finally he heard a click and the bathroom door slowly swung open. There, clad in a bathrobe and PJ's stood his wife, guilty blue eyes staring up at him. Her hands were behind her back.

She stepped forward. "Okay, I'm sorry I tried to hide the cake from you," She looked down. "And for trying to eat it all by myself,"

Freddie smiled warmly at her. See? Sam can be considerate too... at times. Rare, once-in-a-blue-moon times. "It's okay," he shrugged. As long as it lets him have a piece of _to die for_ cake then it's alright with him.

"What you said made me realize that a marriage isn't about benefiting from the other, it's about an equal partnership of love and giving," Sam looked up at him. "Which is why I decided to share with you!" She held out the plate and waited for Freddie to take it. Once he did, she went in for a hug.

He circled his one arm around her waist and squeezed her tight. His other hand was holding the plate.

"Sam?"

"Yes, Freddie?"

"The plate's empty."

She pulled away, and he could have sworn he saw traces of a grin on her face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the plate's empty." He lazed his eyes at her. He should have known. "No more cake on it. There's nothing to share."

She looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean?" She snatched the plate from his hand and picked something up from it. "There's a toothpick!"

Freddie's face clearly read unamused.

Still, she looked like she wanted to win him over. "Look, it even has some icing stuck on it! I left it all for you!" She sighed dreamily at him. "Am I a good wife or what?"

He thought of at least a hundred sarcastic comments, but before he could say anything she placed the toothpick back on the plate, went on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and walked away. "Enjoy your cake, Freddiekins!"

He stood there, looking dejectedly at the plate. What now?

"I'm going back to bed," he stated as he gloomily walked towards their room, leaving the toothpick and plate on the kitchen island.

When he finally closed the door behind him, Sam popped up from the laudry room. She quietly strode towards the kitchen. She opened the cupboard and took a pastry box from it. Opening the lid, she gently placed it on the table.

Inside was a three layer, chocolate fudge ice cream cake.

"Sleep tight, Nub!" she whispered mischeviously as she sank in to the chair to enjoy the scrumptious treat.

* * *

Ah, revenge is surely sweet, Sam. You can pick the moral of the story from the following:

1. The early bird catches the worm (Or in this case, the cake)

2. Never leave a thick slice of cake in the fridge unless you are prepared for the possibility that it will be gone the next day.

By the way, I'm sorry I won't be updating iSwitch Moms anytime soon! I have this new story in mind, but I can't get around to writing it because (1) I still have 2 ongoing stories (2) I don't have the time to update, much less start a new story!

Nevertheless, I would like to ask you guys this:

**Who do you want Carly's future husband to be?**

It can't be Gibby (sorry Cibby shippers). Only Griffin, Jake, Adam or another OC. Please tell me your answers! Thanks!

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Please review if you can! It's like a teaspoon of hot chocolate fudge per letter.

See you guys next time!

Enjoy your day!

~kalyn19


	7. Chapter 7

Hello guys! Long time no update! Sorry about that! School's being a tyrant over my life, and I just had time to write this because I'm resting. I hope none of you are mad at me! I'm still going to update this, don't worry! I love writing too much to let it go.

So, I hope you enjoy this one. :)

**WARNING: ** This is a SAD or very DRAMATIC anecdote. I'm sorry, but it was raining outside and the feel of it just... you know. Anyway, I hope you won't mind that much and I'd completely understand if you don't like it, seeing as though you're used to the fun, happy chapters of this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or the characters in this story. They belong to Dan Schneider, who is an awesome dude.

* * *

**Married Life**

Anecdote # 7

It was raining hard outside. No light was on inside the house. A lightning flash, and suddenly a silhouette became visible.

Freddie was sitting on the living room couch, looking dazedly at the air in front of him. His face could be etched in stone, as hard his frown was. He was crouched, elbows on his knees as if brooding over a decision of life and death.

A loud thumping erupted from the main door.

"Freddie!"

He immediately jumped up, nearly losing his balance. Once he regained it, he walked to the door and pulled it open.

Carly came rushing inside, dripping wet from head to toe. On her back was her best friend, her mop of hair effectively hiding her face. It turned into a darker yellow, and that meant it was soaked.

"Let me take her," Freddie offered, readying himself and his arms.

Carly ignored the gesture. "I've got it," she said gruffly. When she reached the couch she bent backwards, letting Sam slide off her back and into the cushions.

Freddie was silent. He daren't look at either of his best friends.

A lightning flash again, and now three silhouettes appeared.

A sleeping figure, poorly draped on the living room couch. Two of the figures were standing. One's head was downcast as the other's head turned to him.

He finally spoke up. "Where'd you find her?"

Carly was glaring daggers at his head. He still hadn't looked up at her. He wasn't looking at his wife either.

"Car-"

"I found her in a pub," she forced out. Her voice cracked a bit. Freddie winced, but still kept his head down.

She couldn't keep her fury inside anymore. "She was sprawled on the bar, empty glass in hand. She was out cold, Freddie!" She stopped to catch her breath, willing herself to take the shakiness out of her voice. "Do you realize what could have happened to her? What would have happened to her?"

A chill went up his spine. He knew exactly what would have happened to her. He'd been spending two dreadful hours thinking of nothing but. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Look at her!" Carly demanded. Freddie looked up at the brunette in shock. Streaks of moisture lined down her cheeks, but her eyes were still furious.

He finally did what she said, and he could have sworn he felt his heart lurch.

Sam was on the couch. Her body was in an awkward position, arm falling off the cushions as the other draped on the arm rest. Her legs were sprawled apart. Her blonde wet curls fanned around her head, some sticking to her face. Oblivious to the discomfort she was subect to, however, she was sleeping soundly.

"Do you honestly think she could protect herself in that condition?"

"No," he answered quietly, almost too much so for her to hear. Rain was still attacking the house from outside.

"I never thought you'd do this to her, Freddie," she said, finally letting the hurt creep in to her voice. She was crying though, because of the fear for the welfare of her friend.

"I didn't mean to!" he cried out, feeling defensive at being blamed. "How was I supposed to know she would take it that way?"

Carly's face turned in to a sneer. "Oh, you knew, Freddie. Of course you did."

And without futher ado, she stormed past him. He couldn't do anything to stop her, and before he could try she was aleady out the door.

A lightning flash, and two silhouettes remained.

Sighing, he walked towards the woman on the couch. His woman. His wife.

"Sam," he said softly, brushing a curl from her cheek. She flinched in reaction, but stayed asleep nonetheless.

"I'm gonna take you upstairs now," he said, gathering her up in his arms. When he finally lifted her off, she began to struggle.

"No!" she half-yelled, flailing her arms. Freddie tried his best to dodge them and still keep her in his arms.

"Sam, it's just me," he soothed, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"Get away from me!" she yelled. Her eyes were still closed, but her brows were furrowed. "I'm warning you!"

He didn't speak anymore. Instead, he just focused on carrying her up the stairs without falling.

"Let me go!" She continued to fight him, wiggling vigorously in his arms. When she finally sensed he wouldn't let go, she began to whimper.

"I'm married, let me go..."

And that's when he stopped.

"Freddie," she whimpered.

He felt as if he was just punched in the gut.

"Freddie!" she said again, louder this time. It was as if she was asking for help.

And oh, how that killed him.

She continued to call for him, her voice threatening to crack.

"Sam, I'm here," he answered, squeezing her for effect.

She paused. She tried to open her eyes, but the lids were too heavy. "Freddie?"

"Yeah, Sam, it's me," he said, then kissed her forehead. "It's just me,"

Her body relaxed. Her arms stopped flailing and instead rested around his neck.

Freddie couldn't help but smile.

"I'm gonna kill you," she sighed. Snuggling into his chest took away the threat in her voice though.

He was suddenly reminded of their predicament. He held her close and continued to their room.

He laid her down the bed, but she still didn't take her arms off his neck. She pulled him down, his ear near her lips. "You hear me, Fredward? I'm gonna kill you for this,"

"I know, Sam," He turned slightly and kissed her just below her lips. Then he took her arms off him. "I know,"

Once he let her go, she turned to her side. She was snoring seconds later.

He sat next to her on the bed.

_I never should have said that,_ he scolded himself._ I never should have..._

Lightning flash.

They were fighting... over something they forgot. It was a little thing, he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. And neither could she. The anger in their voices was enough to fuel the argument.

"I don't need this!" he yelled, turning his back to her as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Oh and you think I do?" she fired back.

He whipped around, a look of frustration on his face. "No, you don't! You don't need anything or anybody but yourself, do you, Sam?"

She was stunned, but her eyes were still piercing blue. "You tell me, Fredward."

He scoffed. "Of course you don't! Heck, you don't even need me, right? I'm just another nub that's bringing you down! Well, Sam, why don't you just forget about me?"

The anger in his voice, plus the fact that he was sneering down at her made her want to cringe. She didn't of course, that was just not her. She was made of stronger stuff than that.

"Is that what you think?" she finally asked.

He didn't respond, for his lips were pressed in to a thin line.

She took it as a yes. "Fine," she spat, cocking her head to the side. And that's when she walked out. She took her coat from the stand, ripped the door open and left.

He couldn't move to stop her. He was too stunned by his own words to even close the door.

Had he meant it?

It took him a while to bring himself together, close the door, and call Carly. He absent-mindedly walked towards the couch, and he spent the next two hours regretting what he said.

Lightning flash, and he was back in the room with her.

Sam was shivering, so he took the comforter and wrapped it around her. She could possibly get a cold, another thing to add to his conscience.

She was still shivering, and the panic in his heart rose. "Sam?"

No response, just the chattering of her teeth. He breathed in and laid down next to her. Then, he edged her closer and pulled her in to his arms. She stopped shaking immediately.

She needed him. Even if she didn't say it out loud or be caught dead admitting it, she needed him.

And that was just fine with Freddie, because deep down he knew.

He needed her, too.

* * *

Well, there you have it! I am so sorry for the drama. And I'm sorry if you felt that the writing was choppy. I have nobody to blame but myself.

**My Explanation:** I know the past anecdotes I wrote for this collection are about happy, sneaky, witty times in their marriage. I don't know why, but I guess my mind just wanted to remind you guys that marriage isn't always happy sitcom moments. It does have its ups and downs. And I just wanted to show you guys that even if these two go through the bad times, they'll make it out alive, hand in hand with a smile on their face and a new lesson in their hearts.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you review!

Lots of love!

~kalyn19


	8. Chapter 8

Hey! :D How is everybody? I missed you guys so much! I am so sorry for my long absence. As always, school's to blame.

**IMPORTANT:** Regarding the story update on Chapter 8. I'm very sorry for the confusion. To answer your question, I did post a new chapter then. But I stated there that I would probably take it down, rewrite, then post it back up again. That is exactly what I did. So again, I apologize for the confusion and the inconvenience (and maybe frustration) that caused you. I was trying to make a better chapter for your entertainment. :D Hope I succeeded!

Anyway, this is the next anecdote for this collection. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or the characters in this story. They belong to Dan Schneider, who is an awesome dude.

* * *

**Married Life**

Anecdote # 8

His wife drives him crazy.

And he's not talking about clinically insane. No. He's talking about all different kinds of crazy.

Case 1: Her reasoning drives him mad.

There's no winning an argument with her.

Counting how long they've known each other and how often they argue, he'd only won about a handful. And that's saying something.

He even lost a bet back then about the meaning of MPEG. He's pretty sure that falls under the category of tech nerd, and that's his field of expertise. So how the hell did Sam get that right and not him?

_Oh well_, he thought. Over the years he'd come to know and accept that when Sam Puckett's right, Sam Puckett's right.

Except now she's Sam Puckett-Benson.

Funny how things turn out. One day he swears he couldn't hate her more and the next he's staring at her like a lovestruck idiot.

Now, sitting on the couch next to her, his stare was more of an incredulous one. The television was on, but they didn't pay attention to it because they were arguing about something. Taking into account everything he just thought of, Freddie wasn't so sure he wants to go down that path.

"I'm telling you, they make these things too sour to be enjoyable," Sam said, looking disgustedly at the bag of candy in her hand.

He looked over at his wife, ready with a retort, but he almost lost his train of thought.

He still didn't understand how her looks could turns his mind into mush. Unfortunately, not understanding doesn't stop it from actually happening.

Her blond hair was in a bun, but it was still messy. Freddie wonders how on earth the small band could hold on her curls. Some of them got away, and they cascaded down the side of her face, past her slightly rose-tinted cheeks. She wasn't wearing any make-up, and that amazed him. Sam can look stunning even without the help of beauty products.

His gaze moved to her eyes, and that's when he noticed she was looking at him.

"What are you staring at, Freddork?"

He stammered "Wh-what?," then cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was accusatory. "You. I'm staring at you."

She lazed her eyes. "Yeah I got that part. I'm asking why."

"Oh."

It took him a while to remember what they were talking about. He looked around for a clue, and saw the bag in her hand. He pointed to it. "The candy."

She looked at it, then back at him. "Yeah?"

"You said something about it."

He knew he was starting to sound like an idiot.

Sam raised her eyebrow at him. "Yeah, I said they were too freakin' sour."

Freddie finally willed himself to snap out of it. _Come on, man!_

"Yeah, well..."

The look she gave him urged him to continue, but for the life of him he couldn't think of anything smart to say. Damn her captivating eyes.

"They're called sour tapes for a reason," he stated matter-of-factly.

She stared at him a second longer, then moved her gaze to the television.

Was his comment that lame she didn't even feel the need to fire back? He decided to redeem himself by turning the tables on her.

No matter what, Freddie Benson was going to win this one.

He turned to the television, finding an object to look at while he thought of his strategy. From the corner of his eye, he saw her move. She pulled out a piece of sour tape and took a bite out of it.

"I thought you didn't like it?"

With a half-full mouth, she answered, "I don't."

He went in for the obvious. "Then why are you eating it?"

"Just because I don't like it doesn't mean I can't eat it," she fired back. To prove her point she took another bite. Her face instantly puckered.

Well that shut him up. Still, he was determined to make her see how wrong she was.

"I don't like milk. That stops me from drinking it."

She narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance. "Yeah, well, you're lactose intolerant. You can't drink milk without blowing up like a big fart balloon."

He glared at her. Of course, that didn't do any good 'cause she her eyes were back on the television.

He decided to let the insult slide.

A few moments passed with them just watching the show.

_I got it!_ Finally, Freddie spoke up.

"You know, everyone is lactose intolerant up to a ceratin degree."

She turned to him.

He felt so smug. _Oh, I got this one in the bag._

"You mean there are different degrees of being a freak?"

He was still preoccupied with being proud of himself he answered a calm "No," before adding a "Hey!" when he finally caught on.

She snickered, earning another glare from her husband. This time she noticed, but she might as well haven't considering how much she cared.

"Then what are you saying?"

Freddie took a deep breath, readying himself for the explanation he was going to give.

"I'm saying the ability to remain unaffected by milk is something that man has developed only recently due to the increasing diversity of lactose or milk-based products, finding it necessary to cope with the ever-changing food and nutrition paradigm for the survival and propagation of our kind."

Her eyebrows shot up to her bangs, her mouth hanging open. She looked lost, whether from the inability to follow or the lack of interest Freddie will never know.

He sighed, trying his best to look annoyed when deep down he was giddy with the upcoming satisfaction of being right.

"I'm saying my reaction to milk can still be categorized as normal," he said, then went in for the kill. "It's the lactose tolerant people who are freaks."

She seemed to ponder it for a moment. He looked at her expectantly.

Finally, she sneered at him. "What makes you think you're so smart?"

_And there it is!_ Freddie fought the urge to jump up and yell "Yes! In your face!". Instead, he settled for a very smug "It's a gift."

She blinked, as if taken aback with what he just said. Freddie grinned.

Sam felt a strong urge to wipe it off.

"Yeah, well, God had to make up for that face somehow."

Then, she put her attention back on the screen. A single comment, and she succeeded in doing two things. One, her primary objective: make Freddie's face fall. Second: win the argument.

Freddie couldn't believe it. He refused to back down and quit, especially since he'd be losing to an insult not at all related to their initial topic. So, he decided to take one last jab at success.

"Why'd you even buy that stuff anyway?"

She didn't even look at him when she answered off-handedly. "Eh, it looked like bacon."

And with that, he admitted defeat.

When Sam's right, Sam's right.

* * *

Well, there you have it! :) I hope I wrote it better than I did before!

Thank you for reading! I'd appreciate it more if you reviewed! :D You can tell me what you think about this story and comment on it and my writing (if you want). Please! I need your feedback! How else am I supposed to learn and improve if you're not there to help me?

Anyway, thanks again! Your undying support is heart-warming. XD

**BY THE WAY: **Notice that in the first few lines, I said "Case 1: ..." This means that (hopefully) the next chapter will be about the other kinds of crazy Sam makes Freddie. So tell me if you support this idea!

Seddie love to you all! :D

~kalyn19


	9. Chapter 9

Hello guys! Thank you so much for all the reviews, faves and alerts! You guys rock! :D Anyway, I know I said I was going to make a sort of series for the kinds of crazy Sam makes Freddie, but please allow me this interlude since it's Valentines Day.

This anecdote (and hopefully the next) is about Sam and Freddie's Valentine's Day. As you may feel at the ending, it's a little incomplete. I hope to finish it with the next installment. But if I can't... I'm deeply sorry.

I've bored you long enough! On to the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly or the characters in this story. They belong to Dan Schneider, who is an awesome dude.

* * *

**Married Life**

Anecdote # 9

It was Valentines Day, the day of hearts and love. It's celebrated by people of all ages, from innocent little 6 year olds giving Mommy a card to two teenagers going out on a fancy date. More commonly, it is celebrated by all the happily married couples.

Now, you might think that the Puckett-Benson couple would have plans for this evening, albeit a little ludicrous and out of the norm, because as a happily married couple they were bound to have something.

Back when they were teenagers, they never really celebrated Valentine's Day as a couple. Some of you might say that it was Sam's fault, but actually it was Freddie's.

With his meager allowance from his tightfisted (due to paranoia) mother, Freddie never really did have any spare money. He barely had money to support his tech hobbies, much less fund a date on Valentine's.

"You sure?" he asked for the umpteenth time, still uncertain whether she'd punch him in the stomach or the face.

Sam released a frustrated sigh."Yes, Freddie, I'm sure. Now will you quit asking?"

She turned away from him, blond curls swaying along the arc. He was temporarily mesmerized by it. Her hair was so unruly, so unkempt. It would have probably made his mother itch for a brush and maybe some gel. It was so different... the exact opposite of how he was taught your hair should be. But much to his surprise, he found it attractive. Sexy, even.

Finally, he snapped out of it. He realized Sam was a good few feet away from him now.

Just then, she called out for him. "Hey, Benson! Would you hurry up? Getting hungry over here!"

"Coming!" he dutifully replied as he jogged towards her.

_God, why is he making such a big deal about it? _Sam thought. _I mean, it's just a stupid day that some idiots decided to crown as a day of love and... I can't even finish that mushy sentence._

A couple passed by, holding hands. The girl was giggling at something the boy said. He magically produced a stuffed animal and gave it to her, making the girl giggle all the more.

Sam couldn't help but stare at them, a feeling akin to irritation and envy bubbling up inside her.

_Snap out of it, Puckett!_ she berated herself. She can't possibly be that girly!

When he reached her, he found an irritated look on her face. He quirked an eyebrow.

She finally turned to him, eyes lazed. "What's the matter with you, Fredwart?"

"Nothing," he replied. "Are you sure it's cool with you?"

Sam's eye twitched. She just couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close, faces inches apart.

"Listen here, Fredderino. I'm fine with not celebrating Valentine's Day. I know what goes on in your pants-"

"Sam!"

"I mean pockets. And I know that what's in them ain't enough to fuel your nerd-habit, much less spend on a day with Mama."

"But I told you, I can hold back a little! Maybe sell my PearPad to a second hand sto-"

She gripped his collar tighter. "You aren't gonna do that, you understand? The next time you ask about selling it I swear I'll break it in half infront of your face."

He gulped. Sam was a woman of her word. "Yes, Ma'am!"

"Good," She finally let go. "Now will you stop being a dork and get us home?"

Once again, she swiftly turned away.

Freddie just stared at her retreating figure. She may not show it, but deep down she really cared about the holiday.

Thing is, she cared more about him.

* * *

After ten years, Freddie was determined to pay it all back.

"Sam?"

Sam rolled over sleepily on their bed to face her husband. "Mmh.. What time is it?"

Freddie kissed the top of her head. "5:30 AM," he obediently replied.

"Then go away, Benson!" she hissed and turned her back to him, making herself comfortable on their bed.

He chuckled and shook his head. Sam was never a morning person. He rubbed his hand along her exposed arm. He already bathed and changed before he woke his wife up. She might have killed him had he woken her up at four in the morning.

He was going on a flight to New Jersey, where their company had their main headquarters. Upon special request, he was assigned to hold a conference for the new trainees that they hired. He had to make sure the new meat were as good as nerds as they proposed themselves to be.

With his luck, it just happened to be on Valentine's day.

_His superior tried to persuade him more when he saw the incredolous look on Freddie's face._

_He reasoned that "Those nerds won't have anything to do on Valentine's day! Save them from the sorrow and loneliness! Give them a lecture instead!"_

_Freddie scoffed. "But, sir, I have a wife!"_

_"You lucky dog," his boss mumbled. "Don't go rubbing it into everybody's faces. You got lucky, but that doesn't mean you aren't one of us."_

_The brunette opened his mouth to retort, but closed it firmly again. Even his wife would agree to what his boss said._

Suffice to say he didn't find it easy to tell Sam. Of course, she told tell him to go, but he was a bit more hesitant this time. After all, this was the year he was going to get her back for every single Valentine's Day she was forced to sit out on.

_"Freddie, I don't care!" she persisted as she walked to the kitchen that night._

_"Yes, you do," he replied calmly. Maybe he was pushing it, but he needed to know just how much his wife 'didn't care'._

_She glared at him, her blue eyes piercing. "Can you just drop it?"_

_He walked towards her and tried to take her hands, but she moved away from him._

_"No," he sighed. "Besides, don't you think that not going should be my choice? I don't want to spend my Valentine's Day with a bunch of nerds!"_

_She chuckled suddenly, and he glared._

_"You'd fit right in," she pointed out. He made a nyeh sound at her._

_"Sam, please!" he said. "Seriously, do you really want me at that conference?" He tried one last time. He really didn't want to give up on the plans he made._

_She looked at him for a moment. Sure, she didn't want him to go - who wanted to spend Valentine's Day alone? - but she had no choice. It was his work, and he needed to go. That was that._

_Her voice was calm and a bit sad when she answered. "Go, Freddie. I can't do anything about it and neither can you. Now can we please stop talking about it?"_

_She turned around and headed for the fridge. She really needed a fat cake right now._

_Freddie walked towards her and hugged her from behind. "You'll be alone on Valentine's Day," he stated gloomily, already admitting defeat._

_"Yeah, well, I'll have a good laugh over the image of the king of the dorks ruling over his nerdy subjects."_

_He had to chuckle at that. His wife always had something funny to say._

_"I bet he's gonna miss his queen," he said as he nuzzled her neck._

_She elbowed him sharply. He winced._

_"Sam!"_

_"What? You called me the queen of the dorks!" she said incredulously. He stared at her hard and saw that there was a glitter of laughter in her eyes._

_He hugged her tight and lifted her off her feet, making her gasp before a fit of laughter bubbled from her lips._

_"Put me down, Fredbag!"_

_He didn't listen to her and instead adjusted his hold on her. He had her slung on his shoulder - much like the way she used to carry him way back then - and headed for their room._

* * *

"I have to go now," he whispered, kissing her temple.

"Didn't I just tell you to?" she muttered under her pillow.

"Okay," he replied. He leaned forward and kissed her again, this time on the top of her head. "Happy Valentines Day, Sam."

He got up from the bed and walked towards the door. He quietly shut it behind him and headed for the stairs.

It took a few moments for Sam to process what he said. Then her eyes popped open and she sat up from the bed. Valentine's Day?

Her hand touched Freddie's side of the bed, and she felt something other than sheets. She looked at it.

It was a box of chocolates. On it was a sticky-note with Freddie's handwriting.

_Hey, Princess Puckett._

_Happy Valentines Day._

_Love, Freddie._

_P.S. Don't stuff them all in your mouth at the same time. I'm not there to watch you choke._

_He is such a nub!_ She felt the urge to punch him and hug him at the same time. _And where'd he get the nerve to tell me what to do?_

Opening the box slowly, she had every intent on disobeying her husband's note. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw that the box wasn't filled with chocolate.

It was filled with bacon balls.

A flashback came to her mind while she stared at her husband's gift. It was ten years ago, and they were about fifteen. She remembered grabbing his collar and telling him about Missy and the rancid Persian chocolate. From then on, Sam was a little reluctant to take a bite out of any chocolate. Once it's in the clear though, she gobbled it up. She was only a little reluctant, after all.

She caught herself smiling at Freddie's thoughtfulness. Normally, she wouldn't be caught dead smiling about anything that her nub of a husband did for her, especially something as corny as this. But she was alone in their bed, so she allowed her smile to give way to a grin.

"That nub," she chuckled as she popped a bacon ball into her mouth. A sigh of satisfaction erupted from her throat at a familiar yet long forgotten taste.

Bolivian bacon.

* * *

Well, there you go! I'm sorry the writing's choppy and I had to shift the timezones. I just wanted to get the story across.

**OPINIONS NEEDED: **You may notice that this is a different way of writing from the sort I usually use when writing anecdotes. That is because I hope this one has a bit more story. I only put it here because it did have a connection to the theme 'Married Life'. I think it should be a stand alone two-shot, you know? So that (1) We won't go away from the 'crazy series' this story is currently in. (2) You'll have easier access to the story. (3) This particular one is singled out from the rest.

Please tell me what to do! :) I really need you to tell me which I should choose.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this and I hope you review!

Thank you for your support! :D It really means a lot!

Lots of Seddie love,

kalyn19


	10. Chapter 10

Hello people! I'm sorry! I realize I haven't written in a (long) while, and with all this Seddie anxiety tied up with school work and teenage drama I just couldn't find the time. But since I got a bit inspired by browsing through tumblr, I thought you guys deserved a little something. So here's a somewhat filler for my absence.

So here it goes, a poem for Seddie (in Sam's point of view). Hope I didn't fail!

* * *

**[S]am and Fr[eddie]**

A Poem

Subtle smirks and eyebrow quirks.  
Tired sighs and rolling eyes.  
Just one look and then you squint  
Discreetly you bite your lip

Insults are thrown back and forth  
Slaps too, but it doesn't hurt  
Kisses, wait- too late- oh my  
Suddenly, he caught your eye

Continue this deceptive game  
Until one day he calls your name  
You can't fight it anymore  
You try to run, he blocks the door

Looking in his eyes you say  
"Beat it dork, get out of my way!"  
He stares at you with a worried face  
Is this the end of your charade?

* * *

So, there you have it. How'd I do? I'm sorry if it's all I've got.

Thank you for still reading this, and I'm sorry if I got you disappointed on this poor excuse of an update. I hope you'll forgive me.

Thanks for your time! Hope you review!

P.S. Updates on stories are currently on hold due to school and personal issues. I apologize.

~kalyn19


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